


Love

by Whimsikal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is still in middle school, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Diary/Journal, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whimsikal/pseuds/Whimsikal
Summary: It's ill-advised, they say, to fall in love with an angel. It doesn't matter, in the end. As far as he knows, he's never stopped falling.(Translation/Original work by AsterRealm)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1 : Week 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsterRealm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsterRealm/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768840) by [AsterRealm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsterRealm/pseuds/AsterRealm). 



> Hi, everyone. This work is my translation of Love, by AsterRealm, and if you speak french, I highly recommend you read the original version, as well as her other works ! They're truly wonderful.
> 
> I will try as much as I can to stick to her style and do her words justice, but obviously my translation won't be perfect, which is why I encourage you to tell me if a sentence feels wrong or doesn't make sense, so that I can correct it. You will also notice a lack of notes in the other chapters, because I won't translate her notes, lovely as they are, and won't add notes myself unless I feel it's absolutely necessary, so I will say everything I have to say right here :
> 
> Please review, I'm sure the author would be very pleased to hear from you ; whether it is about the story or the translation, it's very important to the both of us.
> 
> This fanfiction was written in the form of a diary, and the chapters will be pretty short.
> 
> It is complete in its original version, so you won't have to worry about it not having an ending.
> 
> One last thing. Thank you, AsterRealm, for being so enthusiastic about this and allowing me to translate your work. I'm sorry if you don't happen to like this translation and if you have an opinion to disclose, I'll be happy to hear it. Thanks again. You are wonderful. It's beyond words.
> 
> To the readers : enjoy.

**Monday**

Today, I met an angel.

He had no wings, no halo, no trumpet of doom. He was pretty tall. Looked kind.

He didn't look at me. I didn't need it. I already knew.

**Tuesday**

I saw him again after class. He goes to the nearby high school. I wish I knew his name.

He was laughing with two other boys, tonight, a tall one and a short one. I was waiting for the bus, so I think I may have stared at him for a bit too long. Angels know everything. Maybe he felt it.

**Wednesday**

His name is Bokuto Kõtarõ. It felt almost mundane.

I often ride the bus with this guy, Onaga. We go to the same middle school and we play on the same team. He seemed surprised. « Everybody knows him. He's a great player. I think he's registered at Fukurodani. »

I had no idea. I don't really know Tokyo, least of all its old middle school prodigies.

Onaga is one year younger than me, but he's easy-going. He doesn't talk that much. Not to me, at least. I saw him laughing out loud with two of his friends the other day. Maybe he's a little shy.

On the bus, he said : « I hope I can play against him, one day. And the other boy, you see, the tall one ? He was a middle blocker, in middle school. I forgot his name. »

I asked if they played on the same team. He said no ; that they knew each other from elsewhere. He didn't know exactly.

**Thursday**

In the morning, the bus is empty, then it fills up gradually until it gets to the station, where almost everybody gets off, save for Onaga. For Onaga, it's the starting point. He lives on the outskirts of town.

We say hello, but don't talk to each other. I don't know if I like him. I think so.

I gaze at the sunlit scenery, the passersby, the cars, the trees. I'm not too fond of the city. I'm starting to get used to it.

Bokuto Kõtarõ wasn't there, today. Maybe I didn't search well.

**Friday**

I went to buy food after training. He was hidden behind some shelves, an outrageous amount of milk breads in his arms. He was muttering something without speaking to anyone. His friends had apparently not accompanied him. I think he was in a bad mood.

He noticed I was staring at him. I didn't know what to say, so I fled.

**Saturday**

I wasn't made to speak with angels.

**Sunday**

I dreamt of him.

Onaga was telling me he had seen him fly.

We were on top of a tower and I couldn't make out the ground beneath our feet. Then he was there, crouching on the window, his huge steady eyes set upon my face. Bokuto Kõtarõ. He was holding my heart above the void. I was bleeding a lot. I didn't really care.

He said : « I know you, Akaashi Keiji. »

I didn't believe him.

He smiled. Held out my heart. I refused.

He might as well keep it.


	2. Week 2

**Monday**

He spoke to me. No, I spoke to him. He was alone, so I crossed the road. Life is too short to be wasted on waiting.

The truth is, Onaga had stayed behind and I didn’t really feel like riding the bus without him. I mean, I think. It’s the only good reason I was capable of finding. 

I don’t remember what I said. Something to do with volleyball, about how I heard of him, which isn’t exactly untrue –I’ve become a professional at lying through omission. When I announced that I played, too, his gaze lit up, _literally_ lit up, but it may simply have been the effect of the street lights that had just been switched on. He asked me if I was a setter. I said I was.

I’m not too bad at straight-up lying either.

Before leaving, he asked for my name, and it took a weight off my back. He didn’t know me. Good.

**Tuesday**

I think the coach doesn’t really like me.

He’s a substitute. At first glance, he can’t be older than twenty-five years old ; I’m not saying it influences his performance, that would be exaggerating, but it influences his performance. He’s not a good teacher. Not a bad coach, but I think he doesn’t like kids.

Kids consisting, in his eyes, of every person who’s less than twenty-five years old. Perhaps he regards himself as one of us, in the end. I’m certainly not asking him.

Be that as it may, I stood in front of him to ask him to make me a setter.

He said no.

**Wednesday**

Still no.

I didn’t speak to Bokuto again, but I came across his messy-haired friend (the tall one) and he smiled at me.

I don’t know what to make of it.

**Thursday**

I’ll insist until he agrees. « We already have an excellent setter », he uses as an excuse every time. But he’s wrong ; our setter is nothing excellent. He’s good, that much is true, and denying it would be a show of bad faith, but he’s nothing extraordinary.

I’m not doing so badly myself. If I work diligently, I could surpass him. He won’t be able to say anything, then. A spot like this one must be deserved.

**Friday**

My sister refuses to help me. She hasn’t played for at least five years. I think she’s tired.

**Saturday**

Onaga stayed with me after training. We kept playing for a good hour, then he left.

I think I could train on my own. I’ll look on the net. My connection isn’t extraordinary, but I’ll take notes. I _must_ become a setter. I’m far from bad at it. I’ll get there.

**Sunday**

Bokuto Kõtarõ was waiting in front of the konbini. He waved at me, so I came closer.

« Coming out of training ? », he asked. I said I was. « It’s bloody late ! » His round eyes reminded me of a surprised bird’s.

I told him about my complementary sessions. He made a funny face.

« Classy ! Argh, if only I was allowed that, too ! »

I didn’t add anything. His friends came out of the store ; I seized the opportunity to get in.

I bought a filled bun. I didn’t want to take the bus, so I walked. It took hours. When I finally reached our apartment, it was dark outside. My sister didn’t say anything, but she went to bed leaving me all the dishes. I had it coming.

Tonight, I’ll dream of volleyball.


End file.
